Cause and Effect
by Pegasus
Summary: An as-yet-undetermined-part story in which the Doctor, following the events of 'Journey's End' continues on his way...alone. But for how long?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter One**

It was a wrench to pull himself away from the Earth, but the Doctor knew that it had to be done. The indifference of Donna's farewell – such as it had been – had left him more miserable than he had been aware he would feel.

_It had to be done,_ he reminded himself. _She is a wonderful person and the human race will benefit much more from her being alive than from her pointless death._

The thoughts brought him no comfort at all as he stood at the TARDIS console which only an hour or two ago had been packed to the gunwales with bodies and was now so very, very empty.

_Situation_, he thought grimly, _normal._

It had been a bizarre few hours, one way or the other and even the Doctor, so used to peculiar happenings and strange events had felt the emotional shockwaves more keenly than he could have imagined. Coolly, clinically, he took each one and dealt with it in turn. The aversion of the end of reality at the hands of Davros and his Daleks was a long, long way down the list. That was almost run-of-the-mill in comparison to the rage of emotions that flowed through his tired body.

He had been reunited with Rose, only to then be separated from her again, most likely forever. But when he put it into perspective, that was well and good. It had served an important purpose, which had been to demonstrate to him the surprising realisation that was, in fact, _over _her.

Not forever, of course, and certainly not completely – but he definitely moved on. No, he would _never_ be completely over Rose – but the other 'him' was a different kettle of worms. Or can of fish. Or some other bizarre human metaphor involving animals and receptacles. After all, the other 'him' had been force-grown from the hand of a Time Lord who had not been changed by the intervention of Rose, Martha and Donna's humanity. He represented all that the Tenth Doctor had been in his early days – impulsive, emotion-driven and volatile. Rose would be good for him – he knew that categorically. They would spend the rest of their lives together. They would probably have children. And just as he had moved on from the emotional attachment that he had perhaps foolishly formed with Rose, she would grow to love the other 'him' and move forwards herself.

He hoped fervently that if they had a girl, they didn't call her 'Chardonnay'.

Then there had been the separation from Donna, something that the Doctor didn't think he would ever like to dwell on too much. He had not been proud of himself for what he had done to her, particularly in light of the fact that she had not wanted to be returned to her humdrum existence. But he could not have allowed the human-Time Lord meta-crisis to have destroyed her. She meant too much to him for that.

He flipped a switch on the TARDIS console moodily and stabbed a destination into the computer, absently bracing himself as the aged machine lurched violently in a different direction.

He could have let her continue as she was for a while. The idea of a matched mind, of a companion intellect had been sorely tempting – but the degradation had already become too far advanced. Had Donna been a dull-witted, empty-headed woman, the human portion of her brain would have fought for much longer against the encroaching accumulated knowledge of almost a millennia of space and time travel. But she was clever, Donna. Oh yes. Very clever and very, very human. No, he had done what he had done out of necessity and compassion. Nothing more, nothing less.

He nodded abruptly. Yes, that was right. _Compassion_. Despite the tears and the terror in her eyes when he had taken the memories from her. It had been an action of compassion.

"_Donna...I'm just leaving."_

"_Yeah. See ya."_

The Doctor closed his eyes. It had been hard to leave her like that. It was as though he had taken everything good from her and left her with nothing. At least she had the support of her family. Wilf would see her through and he suspected that even Donna's mother might now learn to see her daughter in a new light. But he also knew well enough that time would settle Donna back to normal, that she would ultimately reach her full human potential, whether that be as a temp in a library, or even as Prime Minister, should the dice of Fate be cast that way.

Prime Minister.

Harriet Jones.

Yes, he knew who _she_ was.

The woman whose entire government he had deposed with six little words murmured into the ear of an aide. The woman whose reasoning that someday the Earth would be in trouble and the Doctor wouldn't be there to help had been _flawless_ and the woman who he had all but scratched from his memory in bitter anger as a result of her hostile actions against the Sycorax. The woman who had never once given up hope – but who _had_ given up her life just so that he might be found.

He felt more shame for his treatment of Harriet Jones than anything he could remember for a very long time. It had been so very indicative of the earlier behaviour of this incarnation and he realised, with some very small comfort, that he had undoubtedly changed exponentially since then.

Captain Jack and Martha – they were constants. They never seemed to change, not really. Only Martha was starting to become something that made the Doctor nervous deep down. She had gone from being a poised, competent, strong willed young woman to becoming UNIT's pawn – whether she realised it or not. He suspected that in time, he would run into Doctor Jones again. He hoped fervently that they were fighting on the same side.

Jack Harkness, he knew with great satisfaction, would never change. There were some things in life that could be relied upon. Death (although not in Jack's case, obviously), taxes, Slade at Christmas and Jack making an inappropriate sexual innuendo at the most inappropriate of times. He had grown quite fond of the time agent – not that he would ever admit it out loud.

And Sarah Jane Smith. The Doctor smiled as he remembered the joy and excitement on her face when she had left to return home to her son. There was a story there that the Doctor felt almost offended that he wasn't a part of – perhaps the details were something he could acquire and fill in at some other time.

Some other time it would have to be. Because right now, the Doctor wanted to be nowhere near the Earth. Martha and Jack, along with Mr Smith now had the means to communicate with him should things be desperate, but right now, the Earth was the very last place in the cosmos that he wanted to be anywhere near. He had an entirely different destination in mind. He didn't particularly _want_ to go there, but it was a necessity.

"Just you and me again, old girl," he said to the TARDIS, a tone of forced cheerfulness in his voice. He rested a hand on the console and the TARDIS thrummed gently under his touch. A real sense of home and comfort filled him and he allowed the familiar sounds of his TARDIS to dissipate all the negativity of what had happened. His soul lightened. So what if he was the 'Destroyer of Worlds'? He rested a hand on the engaging lever and nodded once again.

"Sticks and stones," he said with a sudden grin, "may break my bones, but randomly assigned monikers doled out by a crazed madman working at the behest of an insane Dalek based on the actions of a cloned half-human-half-Time-Lord-half-a-pint-of-lager-and-a-packet-of-crisps-please who was acting out of a selfless need to defend the entire human race and beyond..." His lips moved as he tried to catch up with himself. "...may never hurt me."

Having so declaimed, he slammed up the lever and the TARDIS sped through space towards the Shadow Proclamation.

(Continues in Chapter Two)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Two**

The Doctor was not surprised by the waiting Judoon when the TARDIS materialised inside the Shadow Proclamation's buildings. He _was_, however, quite surprised that the rhino-like peacekeeper at the head of the platoon made an effort to speak to him in something more than single syllable grunts.

"You Doctor. You must come."

"I'm almost disappointed," said the Doctor. "I LIKE the way you talk. Go on. Just a little 'mo'."

The Judoon stared impassively at him.

"You will come. Now." He waved the rifle at the Doctor, who tipped his head on one side, then grinned.

"Close enough." He closed the door of the TARDIS and fell into step beside the Judoon. The others – about a dozen of them – closed ranks and the Doctor found himself in the midst of the marchers. It was faintly unnerving. The last time he'd come here, with Donna, the Judoon had been menacing and threatening in the way that they always were, but this was practically hostile.

"I'm going to hazard a guess," said the Doctor, conversationally, "that the Shadow Architect isn't best pleased with me disappearing like that."

"Your guess is quite correct, Doctor."

The woman the Doctor knew as the Shadow Architect was waiting for the group at the end of the corridor. "All is well, Captain, you may return to your patrol."

"Mo," said the Judoon, turning sideways and glowering at the Doctor, who beamed in response.

"There you are, see? You CAN do it!"

The Judoon stomped off down the corridor to do whatever it was that Judoon did when they weren't stomping. Maybe polish their stomping boots, who knew?

"Ah, Architect. So good to see you again."

"Do not think to win me over with your charm, Doctor. You are lucky that the Judoon did not kill you on sight."

"I take it that I have you to thank for that little incidental detail?" The Shadow Architect narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but finding nothing dishonest or underhand in the statement merely gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"You are too – interesting – for me to lose just yet. Come, we will walk and talk."

"The 'just yet' in that sentence is more than a little worrying, but…" The Doctor strode alongside the Shadow Architect, his longer legs forcing her into a more hurried pace to keep step with him. Unconsciously, he slowed himself down a little, keen to maintain a good relationship with her. Striding off at top speed was probably not the best way to keep her on his side. She was displeased with him, certainly, but she also seemed like a reasonable individual.

"You understand, of course, that the Shadow Proclamation is most displeased with your actions?"

"Which particular ones?"

"The most _recent_ ones, Doctor, please don't try my patience." The Architect clucked the roof of her mouth with a tongue as a mother would scold a child. "You blatantly disregarded my direct order regarding your space vessel, and as for your actions with the Daleks…"

"Ah." The Doctor went for supplication. It seemed easier under the circumstances. "You've heard about that already, then?"

The Architect laughed, but there was very little humour implicit in the sound. "Of course, Doctor. Surely you are aware that our network extends much further than most mortals can comprehend? Our agents have formed a network on reality since time immemorial. We were there at the dawn of consciousness, we will be here long after you are nothing more than a drying ink stain in the annals of history. A forgotten vigilante."

"Oh, I don't know," said the Doctor. "I plan to live forever. Just because I know it'd annoy so many people."

The Architect's lips twitched slightly at his words, but she regained easy control over her emotions. "Have you always been this foolish, Doctor, or is it merely something that you have acquired with age?"

"Let me think," said the Doctor, rolling his eyes up and sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as though deep in thought. "There was the time when I…no, not then. What about when I … no…no, not then, either." He shook his head and gave the Architect a mournful look. "Nope. Always been this way."

This time, she could not hide the slight smile. They had walked the full length of a corridor and now stood before a panel. The Architect put her fingertips to the panel which glowed a soft red hue and the doorway before them opened up. "This way, Doctor," she said.

The Doctor took a couple of rather hesitant steps forward. "And this is…?" he asked, his tone querying. The Architect laughed, a strange sound coming from her, given how strait-laced she had been up until now.

"This, Doctor," she said, somberly, "is another corridor."

"Oh," he said, then grinned sheepishly.

Still chuckling slightly, the Architect led the way through the doorway, followed by the Doctor.

This was more than a corridor, though. This area was rife with activity, people bustling up and down, some with hand-held computers, others merely walking with sheaf after sheaf of papers. Occasionally one of them would raise their heads and meet the gaze of the Architect. Without fail, they would nod their heads in polite deference.

But when their heads met the gaze of the Doctor, he received no such treatment. He received the thing that he had anticipated.

Looks of fear.

"Where is it exactly that we're going, Architect?" he asked his companion, preferring for now to ignore the looks and glances.

"We are going to the Hall of the Ancients," she replied, sounding faintly distracted. The Doctor nodded. When he'd visited in the past, he had spoken with one of the Proclamation's many minions about the place's geography and function. The Hall of the Ancients sounded far grander than it actually was: it was merely the name given to the current head – in this case, the Shadow Architect - of the Proclamation's quarters.

Nonetheless, when they arrived there, less than five minutes later, the Doctor had to be impressed.

"Hallo," he said. "Is this Time Lord technology going on in here?" He stepped into the room that by rights oughtn't fit into the space implied by the walls and doorway. It was almost like stepping into the TARDIS, only with noticeably more plants and decidedly less junk. He took his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket pocket and discovered, much to his irritation, that it was flat. He'd not changed the battery pack, what with…everything.

"Yes," she said. "Many years ago when the Children of Gallifrey were still working with the Shadow Proclamation, before they splintered from our governance, the Time Lords helped us with the design of this place. Please. Take a seat, Doctor. There is much we must discuss – and you must be hungry and thirsty after your exertions. Let me at least offer you this moment's respite and sanctuary."

"I…" The Doctor began to protest that in fact, he felt perfectly fine and then realised that she was quite right. All the fight left him in a great sigh that seemed to start at his toes, worked up his legs, gathered pace in his chest then exhaled from his mouth in a rush of emotion. He sank onto the chair that she had indicated whilst she turned to close the door to the impossibly large room quietly.

"I took the liberty of having food and drink delivered when your TARDIS was detected," she said, crossing over to a table on which a platter of assorted fruits and cured meats was arranged. She poured two glasses of a bright yellow liquid from a tall pitcher and handed one to the Doctor before setting her own down and going back to pick up the food, which she placed on the table between herself and him.

"Too kind," mumbled the Doctor. All the bravado and front was gone. The Architect's unexpected kindness had confused him and had broken down his standard defences. She was a shrewd, canny woman and the Doctor sensed that her concern for his welfare was genuine and not some sort of ploy. He accepted the drink and took a sip. It had a faintly citrus tang to it and was so familiar to his taste buds that he felt a prickle of emotion at the back of his eyes.

"Lemons from the groves of Tsa," he murmured. "The southern continent of Gallifrey, where they grew the finest fruits and bottled the finest wines in the entire universe. How do you have them here?"

"We have a rather unique botanical wing, Doctor." The Architect smiled. "We have more than just lemons growing there: some of the more unusual flora from your home planet can be viewed there. Perhaps later you might wish to take a walk. But now, we must discuss the matter at hand."

"Oh. Yes." The Doctor set down the glass of Tsa lemonade and sat up straighter in the chair. "Er – which _particular_ matter? I imagine there's several rather…pressing ones."

"The matter of your employment under the Shadow Proclamation, of course," said the Shadow Architect primly. She enjoyed, for the briefest moment the unprecedented effect her words had on the normally garrulous Doctor.

He said nothing, rendered for the first time in many years utterly, utterly speechless.

Finally, he found his voice.

"My _what_?"

She treated him to a real smile.

"Drink up, Doctor," she said.

(Continues in Chapter Three)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Three**

Following her pronouncement, the Doctor stared at the Shadow Architect, a look of mixed confusion and incredulity on his face. Setting down the glass of lemonade, the precious taste of home forgotten and now tasting like ash in his mouth, he fixed the impassive gaze with a hard stare of his own.

Silence passed between them.

"You are of course, joking. Right?"

"Oh, permit me SOME credit, Doctor." The Architect's lips twisted slightly in a deeply expressive sneer. "Amusing though I think it would be to now reveal the extent of the jest which I have played upon you, I am sure you understand that in my position, I am obliged to be truthful at all times."

The Doctor considered this and sighed ruefully. "That'd be a 'no' then, I suppose?"

"Yes. It is a no."

The Doctor ran those few words through his head in case there were any hidden double negatives, but unfortunately for him, he determined that the Architect was very serious in her words.

Very serious and very, very misguided.

_Hoo, boy. Get out of THIS one with your sonic screwdriver intact, bucko._

"So let me get this straight." The Doctor sat back in his chair and crossed one pinstripe-clad leg across the other, running his fingers idly down the trouser crease as he spoke. "The Shadow Proclamation want me to serve under their banner – and all this despite my effectively telling you where to shove it – begging your pardon – last time I was here?"

Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "As you surmise." The Architect inclined her head graciously. "Whilst your methods are reckless to say the least, you undoubtedly get results. I admit that I simply cannot fathom the logic in your techniques, but the proof is there in your success. The universe is a difficult place to police, as I am sure you appreciate."

She leaned forward and poured more lemonade into his glass and offered him a plate brimming with an assortment of different fruits. The Doctor stared at the platter without really seeing and took a vaguely apple-shaped fruit.

Oddly, he discovered as he bit into it, it tasted like a banana. With just a _hint_ of pomegranate. It was an exotic juice mix just waiting to happen and he opened his mouth to excitedly enquire more about this paradoxical fruity wonder.

The expression on the Architect's face quelled any vegetative verbiage for the time being and he chewed the question back again and watched as she set down the platter of fruit and steepled her long, elegant fingers beneath her chin.

"As you have no doubt noticed, our…effectiveness is not what it once was. Many years ago, the Shadow Proclamation was able to stop galactic disturbances – often before they even started. The harmonious relationship we shared with the Time Lords was a blessing – not just for us, but for the universe as an entity." She sighed and clenched her hands into fists.

"We have done what we can since the fall of Gallifrey…" She inclined her head as a mark of respect, something which touched the Doctor's hearts far more than he would have thought possible. "Alas, our own time travelling abilities are limited by the constraints placed upon us aeons ago. The Time Lords long aided us in this matter, granting us the Covenant of Hours. You will know of this, I am sure, Doctor?"

"Let's presume for the moment that the High Council and I hadn't been on the best of terms for – ah – some time, and presume also that I haven't got a clue what you're talking about."

"Then for the sake of my argument, I shall enlighten you. The Council suggested that a division of Time Lords be placed on permanent secondment to the Shadow Proclamation to aid us with a variety of problems that were occurring in time as well as in space. The Judoon are masterful space travellers and most certainly a physical force to be reckoned with and have handled the space element of our investigations with great aplomb for many years. Unfortunately, their rather unique physiologies are not suited to the strains of time travel. Our own time travellers are long since dead and none of us left have the necessary…clearance."

For the first time, the Doctor saw a glimpse of true emotion from the Shadow Architect. He well knew that the Time Lords had been eager to aid the Shadow Proclamation in whatever way they could, including time travel. He also knew that restrictions had been placed on the Proclamation in the form of limited understanding of the complex astrophysical nature of navigating the complexities of time only being revealed to a select few. This had been called the Covenant of Hours. It broke down, in simplest terms to the fact that Time Lords had received apprentices from the Proclamation and travelled the universe with them, teaching them, training them.

Helping them.

Now the Shadow Proclamation had nobody left with the skills and expertise to deal with the Time Lord technology that was undoubtedly simply rotting away in a back room somewhere - and Gallifrey itself was nothing more than a few pieces of galactic debris, drifting aimlessly in space without direction or form.

Not horribly unlike himself.

"Oh, no," said the Doctor, starting to get distinctly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. "No, no, no. Oh, no." He got to his feet and took a few steps back. The Shadow Architect also rose from her seat. "You can't possibly think that I'm going to cram my TARDIS full of a bunch of anally-retentive Super Space Detectives – no offence…"

"None taken."

"…good, who will quote rule and book at me until I'm forced into a position where I rip off their ears and force feed them their own noses…"

A pause.

"…can you?"

"That's not _quite_ what I had in mind, Doctor, no."

"Well, that's a relief." He sat back down again and his breath left him in a whoosh.

"Of course, it depends on your definition of a 'bunch'."

"Because from now on, I travel alone. I…what do you mean?" The Doctor started at the Architect's tone. She smiled sweetly at him. The Doctor was reminded of a predator about to strike and tensed slightly.

"There is one of our kind who is of perfect age and appropriate disposition for apprenticeship to a Time Lord. He is the most intelligent and suitable candidate and is more than capable of fulfilling the apprenticeship – as per the agreement set in place _by the Council of Rassilon itself_." The heavy emphasis on the words didn't go unnoticed and the Doctor scowled slightly.

"Architect, the Council lost its hold over me many centuries ago. I have not been bound by their laws for so long that I can't even _spell_ Rassilon anymore. Is it one 's'? Two? How many 'l's does it have? See?" He threw his hands out wide in a gesture of mock supplication. "I can't help you."

"You can, Doctor," she said and any geniality in her tone was long gone. "You can. And you _must_. You are not, after all, immortal, am I correct?" She pointed a long finger at him accusingly and he felt oddly cowed by the gesture. The two indulged in something of a staring match.

The Doctor caved first.

"Technically, yes. You're correct. But I've still got a bit of 'get up and go' in me which hasn't 'gotten up and gone' yet. I haven't even gotten old enough to draw my pension by Time Lord standards."

"And yet you are using up your regenerations like a man dying of thirst laps up water. Your days may no longer necessarily be counted in centuries, Doctor. Perhaps not even decades, if you continue as you are. And when you die, everything you know dies with you. _Please_, Doctor. You are the best hope the Shadow Proclamation has of resuming its former status, of offering a line of defence to all those planets unable to help themselves long past your death."

_Damn her_. She knew exactly where to strike and now she had him. The Doctor shook his head mutely in silent protest and the Architect dropped to her knees in front of his chair, grabbing his hands and staring intently at him.

"I am _begging_ you, Doctor. Please. If not for the Shadow Proclamation, then do it for those whose lives may have been saved if we had been able to intervene at the right time."

The Doctor raised his head, no longer able to muster the effort to fight her. Davros's final moments flashed through his mind, the accusation of the way in which the Doctor had shaped others into tools he could use. He had sworn, barely hours ago, that he would no longer travel with company, but now, here he was, preparing to bend that rule. Was it for himself, he wondered? Was it because he feared the loneliness that waited for him back aboard the TARDIS?

Whatever it was, he was now defeated.

The Architect must have sensed something of his emotional state, because she squeezed his hands gently, not without sympathy, and spoke more kindly. "Please, just meet with Kale and assess his appropriateness. That is all I ask."

"Kale?"

"The young man we have earmarked as your apprentice." A true smile touched the Architect's lips and pride filled her next words. "My son."

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Four**

The Botanical Wing had long been Kale's favourite place to retreat. A thoughtful, quiet child, he had grown into an intelligent - if somewhat shy – young man who worked hard at his studies, was respectful to his elders and showed great potential. As the youngest son of the Shadow Architect, he was practically destined for some major Council position when his studies were complete, like his two brothers and older sister before him. Born administrators, all.

But Kale wasn't like them. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself in the face of all the overwhelming evidence. He was desperately trying to cultivate an air of rebellion, and all he managed to achieve was slight dissent and a tendency for his eye to twitch when he tried to tell lies.

As a boy, he had spent time in the Library Wing, absorbing fact and fiction alike. Like many other children, he was born and raised on the Shadow Proclamation's station and had never left. Unlike many other children, however, he yearned for an opportunity to get away from the place. Definitely unlike other children, he harboured a deep affection for fictional tales, filling his young head with tales of derring-do and great adventure whilst his peers sneered at fiction as lies and preferred the joys that raw facts had to offer. They laughed when Kale shyly stood up on his first day at college to say that it was his life's greatest dream to travel to a distant planet.

So the Botanical Wing was the closest Kale could come to experiencing life on other planets. The rather unique programming of the Biodome meant that he could set the temperature, the level of ambient light and with the press of a few buttons, call forth holographic representations of any planet's flora. Of course, the Botanical Wing also housed a lot of real plant life as well, but the collection was fairly sparse.

Holographic recall was the only way many extinct plant species would ever be remembered and it had become Kale's personal bugbear that so many had become extinct at all. It was just another of his peculiarities that set him apart from his peer group, but he didn't really mind.

_If you keep believing it, Kale, one day they will, too._

This particular evening saw him walking through a purple-hued garden of Sontaran roses. For such a war-torn, troubled planet, the flora on the Sontaran's home planet was quite remarkable, and well adapted to the lower oxygen environment. The roses were night stock, with a delicious scent that the Proclamation's highly advanced computers recreated in every olfactory detail. Some of the plants were the real article, but it was impossible to distinguish where the real flowers stopped and the recreations began.

Kale strolled easily through the garden, inhaling the scent of the roses and appreciating them with the same attention to detail that he showed to everything. This was the first time he had 'dialled up' the Sontaran rose garden, having read about them in a traveller's journal earlier that day. As he moved through the garden, he bent towards a patch of the flowers to inhale their scent even more deeply.

"I wouldn't do that."

The man's voice made the boy jump and he straightened up to glance over his white-robed shoulder in alarm. He was of above average height for his years, with a head of almost white-blond hair and the pale skin and ice-cool eyes of his mother's race. In human terms, Kale could probably have been considered a handsome young man, but amongst his own kind, he was considered merely of average appearance. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and gentle. He seemed, overall, to be a very pleasant young man indeed.

Looks can often be deceiving, of course – but Kale genuinely was everything he appeared. And he hated it.

"Why not?" He glanced back at the clump of roses, then at the man who had spoken. Humanoid, tall, skinny and with a shock of artfully disarrayed hair that Kale immediately envied. He was leaning up against the wall of the Biodome, looking faintly bored.

"Sontaran roses," said the man, pushing himself away from the wall and moving towards Kale. "Perhaps one of the most beautiful flowers in the whole of the known universe. Which given how easy on the eye the planet's natives _aren't_ is quite surprising, really. The deepest purples, the brightest reds, a scent to _die_ for, and…"

He reached out with a hand towards the closest rose which almost immediately strained to reach the offered appendage, a set of previously unnoticed petals opening to reveal serrated edges not unlike that of the Earth Venus Fly Trap.

"Carnivorous," finished the man, snatching his hand back. "You must be Kale."

"Yes, I am," said Kale. He stared down at the rose which barely moments ago had been beautiful, but was now visibly seething at having been denied its dinner. "Would that thing have actually tried to bite me?"

"No, it wouldn't have tried, it would have succeeded. Nasty things, Sontaran roses. They don't actually sever your limbs or anything, but they do inject a slow-acting poison that paralyses their prey. Of course, their prey is usually much smaller than you or I, so the worst that happens to us is a numb hand – or as was nearly the case in your instance – a numb nose for a while. It's not pleasant, though." The man peered suspiciously at the boy. "I thought you were supposed to be well read?"

Kale stared at the stranger, his head filled with confusion at the man's manner of speech, the way he seemed to go off on a tangent in mid-sentence and shook his head.

"Let us assume that there is a gap in my teaching," he said in his mild tone, no hint of sarcasm evident, and was rewarded with a fleeting smile from the other. "I am most apologetic," Kale said, "but I do not recognise you. Who are you?"

"You can call me the Doctor."

"Doctor of what?"

"Why must people be so literal when I introduce myself? Just 'the Doctor'. That's not too hard, is it?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Your mother seems to think that I'll find you interesting. Why might that be?"

The man's blunt rudeness surprised Kale. Almost to a man, the people who inhabited the Proclamation base were polite, deferential and well-mannered. Even the Judoon with whom Kale had come into contact said 'please' and 'thank you', or at least its rough Judoonese equivalent. So he didn't immediately answer the Doctor's question, but stood there in confusion, his mouth slightly open.

"Close your mouth, you'll catch insects."

Kale's mouth closed immediately. The Doctor sighed. "Let me make this simple for you, Kale. I promised your mother that I would come and talk to you. She promised me that I would see why I should find you a suitable candidate for a rather unique job opportunity. So far, I'm not seeing it." The Doctor knew he was being more than a little unfair by not levelling with the kid, but he was feeling faintly angry at the Shadow Architect for putting him into this position. He had seen no sign of the spark he sought in his companions, felt no jolt of connection with this – frankly – dull boy and was already planning out ways he could escape.

_Rude. And not ginger._

And with his next words, the boy completely changed the Doctor's opinion.

"It might help," said Kale, mildly, not rising to the bait at all, "if you told me exactly what the 'job opportunity' was. After all, how is one supposed to get enthused about the unknown, exciting as that may be? We are taught to take on the facts first, then make an appropriate, logical decision based on the divination of those facts." The faintest of smiles touched Kale's own young face. "I prefer snap judgements, but don't tell my mother I said so."

_Bingo._

"Ah, but that's just it, Kale." The Doctor's grin suddenly became very real and curiously infectious. "That's exactly what the job opportunity is. Getting enthused about the unknown." He saw the spark of interest flare deep down in the boy's eyes and knew then what it was that his mother had been saying. Here was a young man whose imagination hadn't been conditioned into pure logic by the way of life on board this base. Here was a young man who might just get enthused about the unknown.

"Let's assume for the moment that I am interested in taking you off this base and taking you travelling. What would be your instinctive reaction? Don't think about it, just tell me what your response would be to the question 'do you want to come with me?'"

The Doctor had asked this question of people before and had experienced a range of responses from 'I'm sorry, what do you mean?', right through to 'well, I'd have to pay the milkman…put the cat into kennels…pay Auntie Mary's TV licence'.

In both cases, he'd left without taking the individuals in question.

From what he knew about the Shadow Proclamation, he predicted that the response would be the logical and clinical 'explain more fully what you mean'. He met the unflinching gaze of the boy who answered almost immediately.

"My instinctive reply, Doctor would be 'where are we going and when do we leave'?"

_Oh-HO! There IS something different about this one._

The Doctor's grin widened, almost impossibly and he reached over and clapped Kale on the shoulder. "That," he said, "was the right answer. Tell me what you know about the Covenant of Hours, Kale, because if you play your cards right, you might just be signing up."

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Five**

The Doctor had been in Kale's company for barely two hours and already he was starting to find the adjustment difficult.

Not difficult in the 'I wish this boy wasn't here' sense, no. Kale was almost unerringly polite and well-mannered. They had sat down with the Shadow Architect, discussed the Covenant of Hours, outlined a vague plan of education. Within the hour, the agreement had been finalised, the Doctor had eaten the last of the Shadow Architect's biscuits, Kale had packed an almost embarrassingly tiny bag of clothing and they had headed back to the TARDIS.

That had been where the difficulties had begun.

Not only had the boy been singularly unimpressed by the TARDIS interior, he had almost immediately started making what the Doctor felt were overly-critical observations about the aged machine's condition. It was strange, but after so many years of travelling with human companions, the Doctor had come to quite enjoy that look of disbelief that invariably came onto people's faces when they failed to comprehend the true size of the TARDIS.

The Doctor had never admitted that there were areas and decks inside his own ship that he had never successfully mapped himself, nor that there were other areas that were so deeply immersed in the Time Vortex that mapping them was about as much use as sending the 'Lusitania' to rescue survivors of the 'Titanic'. They changed as often as the weather.

So there had been none of the open-mouthed, fly-catching disbelief of which the Doctor had grown so fond. Of course, it was always _funnier_ when they ran outside and back in again, but usually he was content with the look of confusion as their tiny, simplistic monkey brains tried to make the connection between the size of the TARDIS exterior and its impossible inner space.

But not Kale, oh, no.

He had strolled in through the doors, looked around himself with a faint air of disinterest and set down the bag which he had brought with him. "This ship needs some serious maintenance," he had observed, in what the Doctor had felt to be an unnecessarily blunt tone, and had looked up with an irritatingly expectant expression. The Doctor had considered urging him outside and back in again, but realised with a pang of regret that the boy had grown up around Time Lord technology.

It was disappointing.

And then the comment about the lack of maintenance on his ship – that _stung_. He'd spent so long alone in the TARDIS and so long with people who were amazed by its very _being_ that none of them had ever really criticised her. Of course, he'd heard the old girl referred to variously as 'the old wreck' and 'the pile of junk', but he'd convinced himself that they had been terms of endearment rather than insults.

"Ah, maintenance. Yes." The Doctor scratched at his long nose with a thin finger. "You're probably right, she _could_ do with a bit of an overhaul. Unfortunately, the last TARDIS service station for several thousand millennia closed down during the Time War. We get by."

The Doctor had moved to the console and swept aside several random items that he had emptied out of his pockets that morning. A water pistol, a small, plastic duck, a jam sandwich that had been cultivating some rather interesting mould – all of these had been cluttering up the console and only now did he feel faintly embarrassed at their presence. He could sense Kale staring at the small, plastic duck in mild bewilderment and could feel the question coming before it was even out of the boy's mouth.

The Doctor straightened up and fixed Kale with a stern glance.

"I expect," he said, solemnly, "you're wondering why I have a small, plastic duck on the console."

Kale hesitated, not wishing to appear stupid then bit his lip and nodded. "The question _had_ crossed my mind, Doctor, yes."

The Doctor picked up the offending item and waved it around as he spoke. Every so often, it emitted a faint 'squeak'. "You see, there are some things that you find yourself needing in the most unlikely of situations. Always be prepared, Kale. That's the first motto of this unit. Be Prepared!" The Doctor made a circle with the thumb and pinky finger of his right hand and let the other three fingers go upright in a close approximation of the Earth Boy Scout salute. "Um. Yes. Be Prepared. Oh, and dib-dib."

"Dib-dib?" Kale curiously attempted to mimic the salute. Sensing the upper ground, the Doctor released his fingers and changed his salute to that of the Vulcans of Star Trek.

"Live long," he said, seriously, "and prosper."

It amused him no end that Kale couldn't separate his fingers without the help of the other hand.

"These greetings are unfamiliar to me," said the boy, sounding exasperated. "I am familiar with over seventeen thousand cultures and yet I have no point of reference for these gestures." He sounded suitably annoyed at his own ignorance. It made the Doctor feel a little better.

"You'll learn, Kale. Here, hold this."

He threw the small, plastic duck at the boy who caught it on reflex. Kale raised it to eye level and very, very slowly squeezed it.

It squeaked at him.

There was a long silence during which Kale squeezed the wheezy little duck a few more times. He _almost_ cracked a smile.

"Most intriguing," he said, eventually. "And how is it that such an item comes in useful?"

The Doctor, busy throwing switches and programming coordinates, looked up and thought on the fly.

"The duck," he said, "is the symbol of the gods in many cultures. You'd be _amazed_ at the number of times our squeaky little friend has come in handy. You know how it is – you're running away from a killer group of alien hedgehogs who are hellbent on creating works of art from your lower gastrointestinal tract, when WHAM!"

He slammed his fist down on the console. Startled, Kale dropped the duck in alarm. The Doctor gave him a raffish smile. "Out comes Daffy there, the attacking hedgehogs all drop to worship it and then..." He drew a dramatic pause, probably for longer than necessary, then continued. "Then...you leg it."

"'Leg' it?"

"You run away. That's something you'll learn after you've spent time with me, Kale. There's a _lot_ of running away in this job. Now hold on, we're going for a ride."

His hand hovered over the engaging switch, but he hesitated, then grinned. "You do the honours."

"Really?" He received the first youthful expression he'd seen so far in the over-serious boy. Kale's eyes lit up and he crossed to the console and looked down at the switch that the Doctor indicated.

"Really. Welcome to the TARDIS. Population: two."

Kale threw the switch and the TARDIS lurched, its pitched whine audible even from within as it phased from solid form into the Time Vortex. The Doctor shouted with glee at the familiar trembling beneath his feet. Used to the sluggish, but violently erratic movements of the ship's start-up, he had retained his balance with practised ease, whilst Kale had fallen over. Three times already.

"Did I, or did I not say you should hold on?" he said after he'd helped Kale up from the third fall. The boy nodded vigorously and clung to the central rail for dear life as the Doctor bounded, gazelle-like, around the controls, monitoring the readouts and – if he dared admit it – showing off.

"Of course, she hasn't had the right number of pilots for most of her operational life," he said, "so I've sort of gotten used to doing this stuff by myself."

"It's remarkable," said Kale, softly. "I mean, _she_ is remarkable." He put out a hand gently, cautiously, and laid it on the TARDIS console. The central column briefly glowed a light shade of pink then returned to a steady green. The Doctor nodded.

"I think she appreciates the sentiment. She never did like being called an 'it'." He patted the console fondly. "We've been through a lot together, she and I. I owe her my life several times over."

"How does it _feel_?"

"How does what feel?"

"The bond."

If he was surprised by the question, the Doctor didn't show it. There was no hesitation in his reply, only a soft, deeply affectionate tone to his voice. "She is like an extension of me. Like...an extra arm, or another pair of eyes. She is mother, sister, daughter and friend – and always has been. When she hurts, I hurt. When she fears, I fear. She protects me – and those who travel with me."

He smiled, a real smile instead of the by-now familiar grin. "She is, as you correctly point out, remarkable."

Kale's eyes were as wide as saucers as he took all this information in. Then, something seemed to occur to him, and he mentally rewound several sentences.

"What's a hedgehog?"

The Doctor sighed. "I can see that you're going to have to do a lot of studying, Kale." He glanced at the monitors. "Now _that's_ interesting."

"What is?" Kale immediately forgot about hedgehogs and still clinging tightly to the central rail, made his way around to the Doctor. He peered over the taller man's shoulder and concentrated on the symbols.

"That's Ancient Gallifreyan," the boy said. The Doctor nodded and was about to translate, when Kale continued. "It says that the fourth moon in orbit around the fifth planet in the cluster known as Scorpius has begun to disintegrate. We should probably investigate."

The Doctor gaped.

"You read Ancient Gallifreyan?"

"Everyone needs a hobby." Kale shrugged, lightly.

"Scorpius Five it is, then." The Doctor shook his head in disbelief and made the course adjustments. This boy was _remarkable_. Hells, even Ancient Gallifreyans had often had trouble translating their own language. Along comes the Pint Sized Genius, and the evolutionary distance between the Time Lords and modern life forms was swept away.

"Should we take..." Kale had picked up the small, plastic duck. The Doctor looked at it thoughtfully.

"What do _you_ think?"

Kale considered, then beamed a huge smile, before putting the duck carefully into his own pocket.

"I think," he said, "that we should be prepared."

"Right you are."

_Oh Gods. What __**have**__ I wrought?_

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Six**

Scorpius Five was a gloomy little world, cast in an almost perpetual twilight, and with a far greater than could be considered normal planetary rainfall, due in part to the sheer amount of water that covered its surface. Even the Earth had more (and greater) land mass than this place. The single continent, whilst comparatively large, was in the planet's northern hemisphere and the four major habitable areas were markedly different from one another in culture and attitude. The weather, however, was the same wherever you went (dismal), so at least at political functions they had _something_ to talk about.

"So then, Kale. Impress me. What do you know about Scorpius Five?" The Doctor was rifling through the rails of the wardrobe room in the TARDIS in an effort to find Kale a coat of some description. The boy had entirely failed to pack one, probably due to the fact that when one was born and raised in a space station, rain wasn't something that you prepared for.

"I can tell you the chemical composition of the atmosphere down to the last miniscule percentage," said Kale, after a few seconds contemplation. His little face was so hopeful that he'd given the correct answer, that the Doctor softened what would have otherwise been a snappy, impatient response.

"To the last percentage. Well, well. That's – ah – that's very _helpful_ Kale." He pulled down a raincoat that looked for all the world like it had been rejected by the costume department of 'Columbo' on the grounds that it was too scruffy. He held it up and scrutinised Kale through squinting eyes. "I know that the atmosphere is breathable for people like you and me, and that's the _really_ important part. How about the inhabitants, what can you tell me about them? Here. Try this on for size."

"The four major cities of Scorpius Five are set at almost the exact cardinal points," recited Kale, sounding disturbingly like a walking text book. "Meridian City, in the north, is the largest of the four and considered the centre of politics for the entire planet. The citizenship is governed by a democratically elected president and is largely comprised of bipedal warm-bloods, with one or two other evolved life forms as well." Kale puzzled at the coat for a few moments before finally working out how to put it on. When he _did_ get his arms into the sleeves, it was back to front.

The Doctor shook his head and demonstrated the correct way to wear it. The young man pretty much disappeared into the coat, but at least it should keep him dry.

"Brevity," said the Doctor as he pulled on his own overcoat, "is said to be the soul of wit." He was rewarded with a by-now familiar look of confusion. "Learn to summarise! Get to the point! Chop, chop! Skip to the end. Don't let yourself get bogged down with the details if you can possibly avoid it. Remember, Kale. Not everyone that you come into contact with is blessed with the same level of intelligence as you and I. Ooh, did I just blow my own trumpet? Oh, yes. That was a _definite_ toot."

He grinned maniacally.

"So. You've read the data. What do you suspect is the problem?"

"The Meridians have over-mined the minerals on their fourth moon. The molecular stability of the celestial body has been compromised by deep mining and it is breaking down from within. Soon it will break up all together and Scorpius Five is likely to be seriously battered by the resulting meteoric fallout as it burns through their atmosphere and strikes the landmass and, worse, the oceans, where it will cause tidal waves beyond imagining. Statistical chance of rectifying the damage caused to the orbiting satellite..." He frowned briefly, made a quick internal calculation, then nodded. "Two percent. Statistical probability of structural failure – eighty five percent give or take a decimal place or two. Unknown factors mitigating the circumstances to a different, unknown outcome rest at thirteen percent."

The Doctor stared at Kale all the way through the little speech. He sounded so cool, so sure and so clinically matter-of-fact that he was temporarily speechless.

"A night out with you must be fun, Kale," he said. "What do you do for fun, conjugate in Sycoraxian? No, don't answer that, I'm being sarcastic."

The Doctor too had hypothesised – almost word for word – what the young man had just said. The collapse of the moon would be due almost certainly to the greed of the terinium miners who had torn the moon apart for the precious metal. As precious to the star travelling universe as gold and diamonds were to the human race, terinium was rare – almost as rare as a tabloid that didn't publish a story on either Angelina Jolie or David Beckham for more than a week.

Used largely in the manufacture of force shields, it was a highly sought after – and extremely valuable metal. It therefore meant that Scorpius Five was one of the wealthier planets in this sector. Two of its orbiting moons were known to be terinium rich and now it looked like it was all for nothing. They had set up the first lunar mining colony some twenty years previously.

They had all but destroyed the moon in twenty years.

They could almost have been human with a destructive capability that unerring. The thought came and went and the Doctor shuddered inwardly as he remembered Martha Jones' casual explanation of what would happen should she use the Osterhagen Key.

_Must find out who Osterhagen was._

Best not to dwell on those thoughts.

"That's ... still a pretty detailed answer, Kale. Want to give me the short version?"

"That _was_ the short version." Kale managed to look slightly put out.

"Right. Well, here's what I mean. This is MY version. Unless we find some way to prevent the moon's collapse, Scorpius Five is doomed, Captain Mainwaring." The Doctor adopted a pseudo-Scottish accent for the last three words and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

"My name isn't..."

"Oh, shut up. So, then. Thirteen percent of variables to play with, eh? Well, you know what they say about the number thirteen, Kale."

An awkward pause.

"It...comes between twelve and fourteen?" Kale hazarded anxiously. Despite the frustration, the Doctor grinned even wider. This kid was absolutely priceless and right now, displaying about as much potential use as an inflatable dartboard.

"Nope. Thirteen. Unlucky for some, lucky for others. Let's go exploit those unknown factors, shall we? You might want to put your hood up – it's pretty good weather for ducks out there."

Almost immediately, the small, plastic duck emerged from Kale's pocket and a determined expression came onto his face. The Doctor considered explaining the metaphor, but the sight of Kale in his ludicrously over-sized raincoat and clutching a small, plastic duck was far too entertaining.

"Let's go," he said, opening the door of the TARDIS and waving the young man through. "Welcome to your first taste of life outside of the Shadow Proclamation."

The view from outside the TARDIS was quite spectacular. Meridian City was set in a deep vale, with steep sided, heavily wooded cliffs surrounding it on three sides, opening out to the vast ocean on the fourth side. Had this been Earth, flood insurance would have been at a premium – especially with all this rain. This was not Earth, however.

The Meridians, a reasonably technologically advanced race, had long ago developed a flood shield, based on the force field technology created from their own terinium and it held the high tide at bay. That high tide, royally screwed up by the haphazard, dying orbit of the fourth moon was presently an _insanely_ high tide and was clearly only going to get worse. The force field was holding strong, but that would not be case forever. Once the moon fully collapsed, the resulting tsunami would obliterate certainly Meridian City and likely its counterpart on the southern shores, the city of Bhantar.

And when it _did_ happen, the floodwaters would prove to be the least of their problems.

Bizarrely to those not in the know, it often came as a surprise to discover that despite Scorpius Five being an ocean planet, there was no sea-bound shipping. All trade with the other cities was carried out overland.

For those _in_ the know, of course, this was perfectly understandable. The oceans of Scorpius Five were teeming with some of the most terrifying predatory sea life imaginable. Proper sea monsters. The sort that Hollywood could only dream about and which the BBC could never budget. The sort of monster that the force fields around the continent's coastline kept out. If the distribution of that force field was compromised by – oh, say, a massive flood, then the predators would break free and would roam the island freely. Those who didn't drown straight away would be faced with a perpetual nightmare of avoiding what amounted to walruses the size of killer whales, with teeth like crocodiles.

The Doctor explained all this to Kale – briefly, of course – as they stood at the top of the cliff looking down over the city. Kale still had the duck held warily in one hand, held out slightly in front of him like a gun – and finally – _finally_ – the Doctor was rewarded with the fly-catching expression he so loved to see on the faces of those he took anywhere new. Kale's mouth was slightly open and he turned almost childish circles as he looked around, taking everything in.

"Welcome to your first new planet, Kale," said the Doctor softly, watching the young man as he raised his face to the rain. "What do you think? Better than the Biodome, right?"

"It's...a bit _damp_, isn't it? Are all other worlds like this? The Biodome never simulate pain."

"Rain. And no. No, no, no, no! And, for the book, Scorpius Five can actually be quite temperate if you get it in the right season. Why, I could take you to places that are stuck in permafrost and where it's always snowing. Snow's like rain – this stuff – only much colder and LOADS more entertaining. Or there are arid, barren deserts that have never seen so much as a DROP of rain. Or there are planets that have never seen the sun and are in permanent darkness. And then..." The Doctor paused dramatically. Then there's Skegness."

He glanced over at Kale, pale, bedraggled and clutching onto the small, plastic duck and shook his head sadly. "I'm really not sure that you're ready for the horrors of Skegness."

Kale nodded politely, clearly not fully comprehending, and some of the verve and vigour went out of the Doctor's enthusiasm.

"Come on," he sighed. "Let's get to the city."

He headed back to the TARDIS, followed by a small, bedraggled Kale. Water dripped around his small, pale face and the cold was seeping through the coat to his clothes beneath. He let out an involuntary shiver.

"Are you _sure_ the word isn't pain?"

"Quite sure."

As the boy splashed his way back into the TARDIS, the Doctor paused to look up at the threatening sky. A distant rumble made him sigh heavily.

A storm was coming.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Seven**

The first thing Kale observed about His Most Lawful Eminence, the President of Meridian City was that he was tall. Very tall. Taller even than the Doctor, whose lanky frame towered above Kale. Unlike the Doctor, however, the President was heavily, even powerfully muscled. Of a humanoid, bipedal appearance, as he had recited to the Doctor barely minutes earlier, this particular creature's animalistic beginnings were very apparent in the slightly slanted, yellow feline eyes. On second rather shy glance, Kale deduced that the copious quantities of rich, golden fur that covered the parts of the President's body that weren't covered by robes of state were also another screamingly obvious clue.

"Greetings to you," said the President in a voice that was something of a low rumble. Kale was immediately put in mind of a cat purring prior to being fed and tried to put the thought at the back of his mind as he and the Doctor rose from the comfortable seats where they had been told to wait. "My name is Gelamane. I am the President of Meridian City and thus the elected Speaker of my People on this world."

"This is Kale and I'm the Doctor. And – ah – that over there in Kale's hand is a small, plastic duck which he was just going to put away, weren't you, Kale?" The Doctor held out a hand to shake Gelamane's own, but the President merely stared at it, his eyes narrowing slightly suspiciously. The Doctor let his hand drop back to his side again. "We were in the area and noticed your little problem. Wondered if there's anything we can do for you."

"To what end?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What is it that you hope to gain from such an offer?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Ah, you misunderstand me, Your Presidentship. Kale and I aren' t out to profit from your planet's misfortune, not at all. We're here to do anything we can to help you solve the problem." He moved a little closer and spoke to the President conspiratorially out of the corner of his mouth. "Between you and me, and without wanting to sound like a veritable brass section, I'd say we've got a pretty dynamic brain. And we've got a water pistol as well, but I think that might still be back in the TARDIS."

"The TARDIS?" Gelamane narrowed his eyes to bare slits as a connection was made. "The Doctor. The TARDIS. You – " Here, he pointed at the Doctor with a long, clawed finger. "You are the Last Child of Gallifrey. They call you the Destroyer of Worlds."

"Ah. That name's slipped into the timelines already, has it? They also call me the Oncoming Storm, the bloke with the sideburns and on occasion, the 'skinny boy in a suit', but you and I both know, don't we, your Most Lawful Eminence, that names can be deceptive." The Doctor grinned cheesily and thrust his hands into his pockets. "I have to say, that if that's what you're going to believe then I'm going to have to find some way to prove to your that we're here to help. Tell him, Kale."

"What?"

The young man, who had been carefully stowing the small, plastic duck away looked up, startled as the President's suspicious gazed turned onto him. A dusky rose tint touched his otherwise colourless features and he shuffled uncomfortably. A few moments of silence passed and then Kale stared intently at the floor. He began to mumble something incomprehensible, only one word in four being even vaguely coherent.

"Speak up, Kale." The Doctor playfully nudged the young man with a bony elbow and Kale cringed slightly. He took a deep breath and raised his head. The Doctor felt a brief surge of pride to witness the sudden change in demeanour.

"My name is Kale. I am the third and youngest son of the Shadow Architect, present head of the Shadow Proclamation for whom I am representing interest in your situation. Under the Covenant of Hours, I have been bound to apprenticeship with the Doctor and I can gladly vouch for his trustworthiness. What you may have heard is incorrect, President Gelamane. The Doctor is no Destroyer of Worlds. He is here to _fix_ yours."

It sounded so confident that the Doctor gave Kale a friendly pat on the back. "Nicely worded," he said, encouragingly. "Nice try."

The President, however, continued to stare at Kale with expressionless eyes until the poor, bewildered young man shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. Without looking away, the huge creature continued to address the Doctor.

"Your exploits have become the stuff of legend, Doctor," he said. "For every bad thing I have heard about you, there is always a balance, something worthy that you have done, some service you have performed. So tell me, Doctor." At this point, Gelamane turned back to consider the Doctor who met the yellow-eyed, slightly predatory gaze without fear. "What should I believe? The good or the bad?"

"You should believe whatever you wish, Gelamane. I am not here to be showered in your trust, nor to receive your undying gratitude. I am not here to win you over with a flash of a smile, or by producing a rabbit from a hat – shut _up_, Kale, I'll tell you what a rabbit is later – or by proclaiming to be some sort of saviour, or hero. I have come here to offer you my assistance if you want it. If you don't...well, then, we'll be on our way and good luck to you." He finished the little speech with a lazy salute.

Gelamane considered, then nodded sharply and smiled. The way the expression revealed two rows of exceptionally disconcerting, razor-sharp teeth, the Doctor wished, deep down, that he'd not bothered.

"You speak well, Doctor, and your understanding of my race's culture is to be highly commended. Please forgive my former suspicion. Come. You and your – " He looked at Kale. "Your apprentice are to be our honoured guests for as long as our city survives."

The President swept away, moving with a long stride and easy, cat-like grace. Kale slid to the Doctor's side and looked up at him. "How did you change his attitude like that?" he asked, impressed.

"By understanding what he is, knowing his culture and beliefs. Gelamane's people are almost _insanely_ proud. By telling him that his decision was his own to make, he was able to accept neutrality in the matter. Had I demanded he accept me at my word, I would have called into question his ability to make his own decisions."

"So I erred. I insulted him." It was a statement, not a question. Kale looked crestfallen and the Doctor felt pity.

"No, Kale, you didn't. There's a lot more to learning than just what you read from the books. It'll come to you in time, don't you worry." He patted the boy's shoulder. "Plus, you are young, yet. Gelamane's race are impatient, certainly, but not unforgiving." For probably the first time, the Doctor felt true, genuine sympathy for Kale. He had been so conditioned by his early life with the Shadow Proclamation, a collective who were all about logical thought and clinical thinking. Learning the complexities of _emotion_ would be hard for him.

_Was I like that, once? Was I ever so coldly logical and linear that I didn't feel?_

The Doctor was more than a little perturbed to acknowledge to himself that the answer to that question was 'yes'.

He allowed himself a moment's self-righteous irritability at the closeted, uncaring manner in which Kale had been raised. The Shadow Proclamation had ever been the universe's judges and impartiality was a key constituent of their being. But Kale was nothing more than a _boy_. He deserved to fill his life with the rich tapestry of the world beyond his ken, to grow beyond the constraints of his upbringing. To become..._someone_. He'd agreed to teach Kale the principles of time travel, the fundamentals of the laws of continuum – but why not throw in a few extra lessons that the Covenant of Hours hadn't covered?

_There was a young Time Lord once who stood before the High Council and spoke almost those exact same words. You would wish that on this boy?_

His daydreaming was interrupted by Gelamane.

"These here are the most recent maps of the terinium mines on the moon," the President stated, touching an all-but invisible screen which threw up a three-dimensional image of Scorpius Five and its orbiting moons. With a few deft movements of his clawed hand, Gelamane swiftly zoomed in on what looked to be a maze of mine tunnels that wormed their way beneath the lunar surface. The Doctor took out his glasses and, perching them on his nose, peered intently at the schematics. Kale also brightened noticeably and paid close attention.

"Our engineers believe the problems began with the collapse of the Grand Tunnel, here." A claw indicated a spot on the map. "As you can see, it was rather unfortunate in that it offered a strategic support point." The President shook his head and his tone became bitter. "It lost us access to the richest terinium seam we have ever seen. We would never be able to dig through all that rock again in this generation."

There was terrible regret in Gelamane's voice at the loss of the terinium seam and something nagged at the Doctor's mind. He hoped that Kale felt it, too and bit his tongue. His silence was rewarded a few moments later when the young man spoke up, timidly.

"Forgive my asking, sir, but were there many deaths?"

"Deaths?"

"When the tunnel collapsed?"

The President was dismissive. "Oh. Some fifty or so of the Malfori, I believe. But since the collapse of that tunnel, the others have begun to break down as well. The resulting earthquakes have caused a small, but vital orbital shift..." The diagram zoomed out to demonstrate. "You can see, here." He pointed again at the image, and the Doctor watched Kale from the corner of his eye. "We anticipate six days until the instability of its new orbit, coupled with the structural collapse causes our moon to quite literally fall out of the sky. A great tragedy. A terrible accident." Gelamane shook his head sadly.

Fifty miners dead and Gelamane had barely been aware of the fact. The Doctor felt a word come to his lips, but he didn't want to be the one to say it. Instead, he kept his gaze half on the schematics, half on Kale.

As though there were a psychic link between them, Kale spoke the word that was in the back of the Doctor's mind and he felt like letting out a whoop of delight. The young man looked from the Doctor to Gelamane to the schematics and then back to the Doctor.

"Sabotage," he said, softly.

"I reckon so," the Doctor replied, gleefully.

_  
To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Donna, Rose...etc., etc., etc., don't belong to me. Of course, even after all this time, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.**

**Cause and Effect**

**Chapter Eight**

Following the joint pronouncement of potential sabotage, there was a resounding, faintly sinister silence, broken only by the low hum of the machinery. It was the sort of silence that carried weight. Kale had often read the expression in books, but had never experienced it. He was surprised his shoulders didn't sag under its extreme heaviness.

"I suggest you explain that statement, boy. And I suggest that you make it a _good_ explanation."

Kale's glee at having struck on the idea dissolved rapidly at the expression on Gelamane's face as the feline eyes glinted dangerously. He looked anxiously at the Doctor who shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"What my young friend is saying, Gelamane, is that there's every possibility that the mining 'accidents' may not be, in fact, accidents and that perhaps there is more under the surface – if you'll pardon the mining metaphor – than you might think."

"Explain further." Gelamane made an almost-unnoticed gesture that Kale watched, faintly hypnotised. He'd not noticed the claws sliding out, but he most assuredly noticed them going back in. They didn't make a 'ZING' noise. They _looked_ like the kind of claws that should make a noise. He stared at the President's hands anxiously, then forced his eyes up to look the huge creature in the eye. Judging from the extended silence, it appeared that the Doctor was going to let Kale do the explaining. In fact, he noted as he glanced sideways, the Doctor was otherwise engaged with poking at the three-dimensional map of the moon and demonstrating, for all intents and purposes, no interest whatsoever in the proceedings.

_This is a test_, the young man realised. What he said now might forever form the Doctor's opinion of him.

No pressure, or anything.

Kale took a deep breath and did something that he'd never trusted himself to do before. He went with his instincts.

"I studied many cultures during my time with the Shadow Proclamation," said the young man, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. "Yours was just one of them. I am aware, for example, that you have long employed the services of the Malfori as…"

The Doctor glanced up, waiting for the next word.

"…as miners and heavy labourers. I am also aware that in recent times, you have experienced increased difficulties in maintaining order amongst the Malfori community. They feel that as citizens of Scorpius Five, that they should be entitled to the same rights and privileges as the other races."

Gelamane snorted in derision, a noise that irritated Kale, however, he kept his composure. The Doctor nodded to himself. Kale had carefully avoided use of the word 'slaves'. He knew that the President's fierce sense of pride would not have reacted well to that. And, after all, Gelamane hadn't introduced the concept of a slave class.

He had merely perpetuated it.

"I see. And you, little more than a _child_, a newcomer to our ancient civilisation, think that the brainless, mute Malfori have somehow engineered the destruction of their own planet as a way of achieving equality. That's a most interesting theory. Tell me, boy, where would they live when the planet is flooded?"

The Doctor's head shook, just ever so slightly, a movement that Kale only just picked up at the very periphery of his vision and instinctively read accurately.

"You are correct, of course," he said, injecting what he hoped was a sheepish tone into his voice. "It was a foolish idea. My apologies, sir."

Gelemane considered Kale thoughtfully, then scowled and growled his acceptance of the young man's apology. The Doctor continued to poke at the three dimensional map, a look of profound glee on his face as he played with the gadgetry. Aware that Kale and Gelamane had stopped talking, he forced himself to set aside his intrigue for a few moments.

"Well, right this second, I'm stumped, your Presidentfulness," he said, cheerily. "However, if you could let me have access to the mining logs, your most recent news archives, anything at all, then I might be able to research a bit deeper for you. If we can work out exactly what caused the collapse, we can figure out a way to reverse it."

"You are a man of extreme contradictions, Doctor," said Gelamane, sounding faintly exasperated. "I will give you limited access to our core systems, however, I am not in a position to grant you full access." The Doctor put on a sombre, serious face and nodded his understanding. "I will leave you in this office for the time being. In the meantime, I need to go and oversee the evacuation process. We cannot save everyone, but we can save many. Scorpius Two are sending shuttle craft to empty Meridian City as we speak."

The President moved to the console and tapped a few keys. He moved back from the console and folded his arms across his chest. "Access is now yours, Doctor. I trust that you will not abuse it." Then he cast a scornful, belittling glance at Kale that made the boy want to sink into the ground, before sweeping gracefully from the room.

"Surprisingly nice bloke," commented the Doctor as the door swished closed behind Gelamane. "He liked you, I reckon." As he moved towards the console, he nudged Kale with a bony elbow so hard that the boy nearly fell over. He trailed the Doctor to the computer, glanced at the door to make sure it was closed, then opened his mouth to speak. The Doctor raised a hand to forestall any comment and cast the briefest of glances to the ceiling.

_Surveillance camera_, he mouthed. Kale nodded, understanding perfectly. He watched as the Doctor held up his sonic screwdriver and, fiddling briefly with the controls, pressed it into life before setting it down on the console.

"Signal jammer," he said. "It'll scramble the sound enough for it not to be _stupidly _obvious that I've done anything."

He beamed.

"Now tell me what you're thinking about this sabotage attempt. And might I just add that you're pretty smart, thinking what you're thinking. At least, if you're thinking what I _think_ you might have been thinking when you said you'd been thinking of it."

Kale blinked.

"As I understand it, the species known collectively as the Malfori have been – ah –_employed_ by Gelamane's people for many generations as indentured servants…"

"Slaves." The Doctor smiled grimly. "You can say it now."

"…yes. There have recently been a number of half-hearted uprisings from the Malfori who have, quite frankly, finally had enough of so many generations of repression and cruelty. But what Gelamane said is right. Why would the Malfori deliberately cause what amounts to the destruction of their own world?"

"A very good question, Kale. What's the answer?" The Doctor was making a great show of peering at the computer and would occasionally exclaim something like 'blimey' or 'brilliant'. Glancing over his shoulder, Kale mentally noted that the Doctor appeared to be playing this planet's equivalent of a card game.

Kale looked at the Doctor with helplessness apparent in his expression.

"Come on, come on, think it through logically. Logic's what you do, right?"

"Yes, I ..."

"So then." The Doctor slapped his hands down on the console and stood up straighter, folding his arms over his skinny chest. "The Malfori want equality, correct?"

"Yes."

"And to achieve this, they've engineered a situation where Gelamane and his people have to leave the planet or die. Yes?"

"Yes. But…"

"What do you know about the biology of the Malfori?"

"They're evolved from ocean-going lifeforms who developed the ability to breathe above water and learned to communicate through a series of methods including, but not limited to the ability to chameleon-change the colour of their skins according to their moods. They…"

"You've already answered your question, Kale. I KNOW you know the answer, you were the one who thought 'sabotage'. Come on." The Doctor waved a hand encouragingly, bouncing slightly on his feet as he waited.

_I'm going to be sent home in terrible disgrace._ Kale bit his lip and stared at the Doctor.

And then came the moment of epiphany.

"The Malfori," he said, slowly, "have evolved over thousands of years from creatures that came from the oceans."

"Exactly." The Doctor beamed. "And what will happen when the moon collapses?"

"The planet will flood."

The Doctor moved around the console towards Kale, the grin decidedly maniacal.

"And what will happen when the planet floods?"

"Then the ocean predators will have dominion over the land."

"Hence…?"

"Sabotage."

"Exactly!" The Doctor clapped his hands. "Of course, the Malfori on the moon will all die at the time the moon disintegrates, but they are clearly prepared to sacrifice themselves so that their aquatic relatives might live." He stared at the console thoughtfully.

"Is there any way to stop the moon collapsing, Doctor?" Despite himself, despite the fact that at heart Kale disagreed with slavery in principle, he couldn't help but feel that the attempted annihilation of the planet wasn't really much better.

The Doctor looked up and for once didn't smile.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Oh, yes, there's a way to stop it. The question is, Kale, do we really _want_ to?"

_To be continued..._


End file.
